Смерть на Ниле / Death on the Nile - Кристи Агата. Страница 11

Poirot eyed her keenly for a moment. She was still perfectly composed, but the knuckles of the hand that was gripping the table were white with the force of her grip.

He said:

‘And you are afraid this state of things may continue?’

‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘Of course the whole thing is idiotic! Jacqueline is making herself utterly ridiculous. I am surprised she hasn’t got more pride – more dignity.’

Poirot made a slight gesture.

‘There are times, Madame, when pride and dignity – they go by the board! There are other – emphasiser emotions.’

‘Yes, possibly.’ Linnet spoke impatiently. ‘But what on earth can she hope to gain by all this?’

‘It is not always a question of gain, Madame.’

Something in his tone struck Linnet disagreeably. She flushed and said quickly:

‘You are right. A discussion of motives is beside the point. The crux of the matter is that this has got to be stopped.’

‘And how do you propose that that should be accomplished, Madame?’ Poirot asked.

‘Well – naturally – my husband and I cannot continue being subjected to this annoyance. There must be some kind of legal redress against such a thing.’

She spoke impatiently. Poirot looked at her thoughtfully as he asked:

‘Has she threatened you in actual words in public? Used insulting language? Attempted any bodily harm?’

‘No.’

‘Then, frankly, Madame, I do not see what you can do. If it is a young lady’s pleasure to travel in certain places, and those places are the same where you and your husband find yourselves – eh bien – what of it? The air is free to all! There is no question of her forcing herself upon your privacy? It is always in public that these encounters take place?’

‘You mean there is nothing that I can do about it?’ Linnet sounded incredulous.

Poirot said placidly:

‘Nothing at all, as far as I can see. Mademoiselle de Bellefort is within her rights.’

‘But – but it is maddening! It is intolerable that I should have to put up with this!’

Poirot said dryly:

‘I must sympathize with you, Madame – especially as I imagine that you have not often had to put up with things.’

Linnet was frowning.

‘There must be some way of stopping it,’ she murmured.

Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

‘You can always leave – move on somewhere else,’ he suggested.

‘Then she will follow!’

‘Very possibly – yes.’

‘It’s absurd!’

‘Precisely.’

‘Anyway, why should I – we – run away? As though – as though-’

She stopped.

‘Exactly, Madame. As though-! It is all there, is it not?’

Linnet lifted her head and stared at him.

‘What do you mean?’

Poirot altered his tone. He leant forward; his voice was confidential, appealing. He said very gently:

‘Why do you mind so much, Madame?’

‘Why? But it’s maddening! Irritating to the last degree! I’ve told you why!’

Poirot shook his head.

‘Not altogether.’

Linnet said again: ‘What do you mean?’

Poirot leant back, folded his arms and spoke in a detached impersonal manner.

‘Ecoutez, Madame. I will recount to you a little history. It is that one day, a month or two ago, I am dining in a restaurant in London. At the table next to me are two people, a man and a girl. They are very happy, so it seems, very much in love. They talk with confidence of the future. It is not that I listen to what is not meant for me – they are quite oblivious of who hears them and who does not. The man’s back is to me, but I can watch the girl’s face. It is very intense. She is in love – heart, soul, and body – and she is not of those who love lightly and often. With her it is clearly the life and the death. They are engaged to be married, these two; that is what I gather; and they talk of where they shall pass the days of their honeymoon. They plan to go to Egypt.’

He paused.

Linnet said sharply:

‘Well?’

Poirot went on.

‘That is a month or two ago, but the girl’s face – I do not forget it. I know that I shall remember if I see it again. And I remember too the man’s voice. And I think you can guess, Madame, when it is I see the one and hear the other again. It is here in Egypt. The man is on his honeymoon, yes – but he is on his honeymoon with another woman.’

Linnet said sharply: ‘What of it? I had already mentioned the facts.’

‘The facts – yes.’

‘Well then?’

Poirot said slowly:

‘The girl in the restaurant mentioned a friend – a friend who she was very positive would not let her down. That friend, I think, was you, Madame.’

Linnet flushed.

‘Yes. I told you we had been friends.’

‘And she trusted you?’

‘Yes.’

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip impatiently; then, as Poirot did not seem disposed to speak, she broke out:

‘Of course the whole thing was very unfortunate. But these things happen, Monsieur Poirot.’

‘Ah! yes, they happen, Madame.’ He paused. ‘You are of the Church of England, I presume?’

‘Yes.’ Linnet looked slightly bewildered.

‘Then you have heard portions of the Bible read aloud in church. You have heard of King David and of the rich man who had many flocks and herds and the poor man who had one ewe lamb – and of how the rich man took the poor man’s one ewe lamb. That was something that happened, Madame.’

Linnet sat up. Her eyes flashed angrily.

‘I see perfectly what you are driving at, Monsieur Poirot! You think, to put it vulgarly, that I stole my friend’s young man. Looking at the matter sentimentally – which is, I suppose, the way people of your generation cannot help looking at things – that is possibly true. But the real hard truth is different. I don’t deny that Jackie was passionately in love with Simon, but I don’t think you take into account that he may not have been equally devoted to her. He was very fond of her, but I think that even before he met me he was beginning to feel that he had made a mistake. Look at it clearly, Monsieur Poirot. Simon discovers that it is I he loves, not Jackie. What is he to do? Be heroically noble and marry a woman he does not care for – and thereby probably ruin three lives – for it is doubtful whether he could make Jackie happy under those circumstances? If he were actually married to her when he met me I agree that it might be his duty to stick to her – though I’m not really sure of that. If one person is unhappy the other suffers too. But an engagement is not really binding. If a mistake has been made, then surely it is better to face the fact before it is too late. I admit that it was very hard on Jackie, and I’m very sorry about it – but there it is. It was inevitable.’

‘I wonder.’

She stared at him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘It is very sensible, very logical – all that you say! But it does not explain one thing.’

‘What is that?’

‘Your own attitude, Madame. See you, this pursuit of you, you might take it in two ways. It might cause you annoyance – yes, or it might stir your pity – that your friend should have been so deeply hurt as to throw all regard for the conventions aside. But that is not the way you react. No, to you this persecution is intolerable – and why? It can be for one reason only – that you feel a sense of guilt.’

Linnet sprang to her feet.

‘How dare you? Really, Monsieur Poirot, this is going too far.’

‘But I do dare, Madame! I am going to speak to you quite frankly. I suggest to you that, although you may have endeavoured to gloss over the fact to yourself, you did deliberately set about taking your husband from your friend. I suggest that you felt emphasisly attracted to him at once. But I suggest that there was a moment when you hesitated, when you realized that there was a choice – that you could refrain or go on. I suggest that the initiative rested with you – not with Monsieur Doyle. You are beautiful, Madame, you are rich, you are clever, intelligent – and you have charm. You could have exercised that charm or you could have restrained it. You had everything, Madame, that life can offer. Your friend’s life was bound up in one person. You knew that – but though you hesitated, you did not hold your hand. You stretched it out and, like King David, you took the poor man’s one ewe lamb.’